


dark is the night

by historymiss



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2012-09-23
Packaged: 2017-11-14 21:26:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/519672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historymiss/pseuds/historymiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce, Tony and Bucky share more than you'd think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dark is the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [uminoko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uminoko/gifts).



About two weeks after Bucky moves into the Tower he starts to notice certain things. The way Natasha won't sit in a chair if she can help it any more but perches at the most awkward angle, playful, like a cat. The way Parker can't sit still for more than five seconds without doing some stupid kid thing, balancing pencils on his nose or webbing his stapler to the ceiling just 'cause he can.

The fact that neither he, nor Tony, nor Bruce can sleep with their doors closed.

They don't talk about it. It didn't happen. Push down the cave, the cell, the vat, the ghosts that leave you awake and breathless, eyes wide in the dark. 

Refuse to see the shadows under the eyes. The way that Tony can't get warm some nights, the chill of the cave clinging to his bones. How Bruce paces out a room much smaller than his own, step by step by step, the box he deserves, so much smaller than he can fill. 

If he could joke to them about it he'd suggest they start a club. Instead, Bucky pretends he doesn't see. He's good at being blind. And so he lays on his back in his room, four walls of beautifully designed blankness, and waits for sleep.

When Steve sleeps, which he does more often than he'd like, he lies straight and flat on his back, eyes tight shut, breath loud in the half-light of his room. Thor passes out wherever sleep overtakes him, limbs akimbo in wild, enviable abandon. Tasha curls up on her side, warm against his body, her hair pillowing her head in a tangle of red.

(If Clint sleeps Bucky hasn't found where he does it yet.)

They meet in the morning, queue for the coffee machine in a straggle of behead and growling, and maybe it's funny that they've got this in common, though they can't find it in them to laugh.

But instead they don't talk about it, because it didn't happen.


End file.
